Woody & My IBF

Likker bootlegging. Yes, that's what I did today. And that's not all.


Working on getting out early (for me) and making Rice's Country Hams with enough time to spare to get the juleps from Maker's Mark. Desk lady told me that I am very lucky I am not staying next weekend because all the high school bands like from everywhere will be taking up all the hotels. Meet messy teenagers in breakfast area, one wrapped in an orange fleece blanket and a ski cap. Met lady in track suit and girl with wet hair. Hey, I'm the only one who can get away with wet hair in public! Later meet blonder than blond guy in elevator. They are in a swim meet at Sewanee. They have been very well behaved and the only problem I had with the soldiers was the, uh, enthusiasm next door. Enjoyed Comfort Suites entirely and am breaking up with Holiday Inn Express just when I have achieved Gold Level  Priority Club status. Have nice pastries that are not Famous Cinnamon Rolls from a microwave. Woody behaves.

Select addresses that I pre-programmed into GPS with Maker's Mark as destination and Rice's Country Hams as way point. Discover that will not make Maker's Mark by 4 pm when it closes. Shut eyes and try not to think about it. I am also half an hour later to Rice's than planned. Try to achieve zen thing. Drive to Rice's. Pass TN Fire and Codes Academy. I understand Fire Academy. Understand Codes Academy, I think, as fire codes. But cannot get hands around hot guys and bureaucrats in same place. Stop for gas and restroom. Door says We Welcome EFT Customers. Note to self: look up EFT. Think it is food stamps. If it is, some places must not welcome EFT Customers and that is very sad. Can't remember name of gas station but it looks like a chain because it has a nice canopy and large logo signage. Think it was Abernathy's or something like that. I have never seen such clean restrooms in my life and this is not a place you would think have them by the looks of it from the outside. There is an actual push button that instructs you to ring if the bathroom is not satisfactory. Sublime. Select peanut butter crackers for lunch because that clock is a tickin' and I can't lose one single minute even though I betcha there'll be lots of great lunch stops on the way. Priorities, priorities. One tenth of a mile later there is a station with real gas with no ethanol in it. Shit. I'd love to see how Woody performs with real gas but I have just filled up. Pass giant blue metal dog mailbox. Billboard: We Take Almost Anything In Trade. Guess they used to get burned.

Arrive at Mt. Juliet. Hope this is right place because it is a giant amoeba of fast food and Walgreen's. Hope won't be disappointed after driving all this way because of trick photography on web site. This is the place. I know this because as I pull in, a pickup full of hams is in front of me. This is the pickup. And this is the store. Walked in and announced myself as a Yankee with no knowledge of ham whatsoever that needs to be educated. This is true. Guy pulling hams out of pickup calls girl from back to deal with me.

This is Ginny (or Jenny because of the accent I don't know). Her grandfather started the ham business in 1933. The store was originally a general store built in 1888 across the street by horses. It was pulled clear across the road without being turned around so the front door is in the back but the back door is now the front. In other words, the door that you see in the picture is the one you use now but it used to be the general store's back door. Capisce? Ginny's grandfather said the highway killed the general stores. Used to be this road went clear from Nashville to Knoxville. Ginny's grandfather did a coupla hams to supplement the general store in 1933. They were a hit and they did more and more until the smoke house was entirely full with 150 hams. They still use the same smoke house but have 500 hams in it. This is Scott, Ginny's husband. He was the one that did the rearranging so that 500 fit. He is also the guy who was unloading the pickup, the guy who makes the hams, and the guy who cuts them up in the store. Scott dips.

Ginny helped me in understanding country hams. It is a four state only business (Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia and West Virginia) because you need all four seasons. Rice's is only open from October until December or whenever the hams run out. This is because the hams are being made the rest of the year. You need the cold and wet when they're salted and the hot to dry out the salt so that they don't go bad and they can be smoked. I'm not sure I got all the seasons straight but that's the general idea. They get salted twice I think. Country ham is not regular ham like you get in the supermarket or even at Honey Baked Ham. You have to cook it. It is like prosciutto. You soak it like beans and then you cook it in the oven in water in a turkey bag. Ginny likes it salty, though, and puts it in the microwave and just eats it that way. People eat the salty stuff for breakfast with biscuits. She nukes some for me. I like it salty like that.

The shop begins to get busy. I cannot capture the feel of the place in photos. It is at most 500 sq. ft. and probably a lot less but it is empty, really empty. The hams fly in and fly out so fast there doesn't need to be much there. The floors are all crooked and have an incredible shine from over 100 years of customers walking in and out. This is the inside of Rice's Country Hams.

This is where Scott hangs the hams from his pickup. This is another view. These are all the hams in the store and both pictures are of the same spot. Sorry about all the pix but I am absolutely taken by this place. Scott is married to Ginny and he knows more about making ham than anyone because he learned from both Ginny's father and her grandfather. He has one daughter who doesn't know what she is going to do but it is probably not ham. I wonder what will happen to Rice's. The signs above the hams are record prices set for ham. One was $9000 and something. Ginny's father wore a suit when they auctioned off those hams for charity. The money went to the FFA. I happen to know what FFA is. Future Farmers of America but I'm not sure how it relates to 4H. Note to self: find out relationship between FFA and 4H is, if any.

These are all the awards Rice's has won. The big ones are from the Monroe Country Fair. It is the biggest fair in the state and Rice's doesn't bother to go to the state fair anymore but the plaques on the wall are from wins there. Rice's has only lost once or twice (I don't remember what Ginny told me) since about 1933. They judge the hams by overall appearance and shape and smell. When it's time for the competition Scott picks out about 25 hams and oils em up real nice and does a little extra smoke to make them browner. The judges,well, look at them. Then they stick an ice pick in four places and smell it. This is Ginny's ice pick. It is in the counter. Rice's uses an ice pick too to make sure the hams didn't get a little pocket of mold or something so they aren't so good for the customer.

I would like to buy a ham. Ginny shows me how the hocks are used to flavor vegetables and they are $3 apiece. Most people have the whole ham sliced so they can cook it individually in a pan for breakfast and other times. Then there is the fat middle part that you might want to soak and cook in the oven like she told me. Scott is warming up his saw.I wonder if I can take a whole one home so it doesn't spoil and have my own butcher cut it up. Ginny isn't so sure but Scott thinks it's okay. Ginny thinks most butchers won't take outside meat. Regulations. She does tell me that if they cut my ham up it will keep okay out of the fridge for 5 days or so. I have decided to cut the hock in pieces for seasoning, slice the sorta other fat end and keep a beautiful big middle to cook in water. It needs to be cooked for 10 minutes per pound. The thing about cooking it is that it gets really tender and flakes like pork for barbecue does. One of they guys who comes in flakes it and makes ham salad out of it. Most people let it cool because then it firms up again and you can slice it. It is served room temperature. In the old days, hams were cooked in those big lard pots on legs. I nod like I know what at lard pot is. Once it is boiled for 1 minute per pound (there's a lot of math in hams), they used to wrap quilts around it and let it cook in that boiling water even though it is no longer on the flame. I think overnight.

This is Scott cutting my ham. We don't see his face because he is very quiet and very busy. Ginny is there putting it in the plastic vacuum packing thing.




This is adorable old ladies checking out the pre-sliced ham which will be gone in a couple of hours. This is the packages of slices.





This is them picking out their whole hams. Notice there are practically none left and it has been about half an hour since Scott unloaded them from the pickup. This is pretty much the whole store. But it is really empty which you can't tell from here.


This is the shelves with the stuff made especially for them by the Mennonites. They also have old-fashioned stone-ground grits. I love grits and it is one of the greatest disappointments of the trip that I did not think ahead enough to make sure I had a proper Southern breakfast with grits and, of course, country ham (now that I know what it is exactly). The aroma here is smoky but also tangy and meaty like a regular butcher shop. It is really yummy and makes me hungry especially since I am having peanut butter crackers for lunch.


This is a guy who went to school in Arkansas and hunts there. I have no idea how it came up but he likes dives like I do and I showed him the Pie Shop picture. He goes to Really Bad neighborhoods for food especially like barbecue. There was one barbecue place in Tuscaloosa (Alabama?) that is now closed. This is his son who is very,very well-behaved and is sipping on a soda. The guy's wife wants the little jars of blackberry jam which Ginny gets from the back.


This is a picture of Rices' Country Hams in 1933. There is also a letter written by Dinah Shore in 1966 asking them to please send a ham when it is available to a friend who is absolutely salivating due to her description. The Governor of California, Ronald Reagan.


My ham is almost done being cut up and I ask Ginny if the other stuff in her refrigerated case will keep okay on the way home. They will except the cheeses which I find kind of funny. Here is an adorable old couple at the case. Scott rushes by doing something and pulls up a pack of peppered bacon and sorta flops it around and said this one won at the World Food Fair and then he put it back and got right back doing what he was doing. Scott is a man of few words.

Standing at the cutting counter is a different adorable old lady with a Chanel kind of jacket on and a skirt. She has a sparkle in her eye and says she always gets a ham for Thanksgiving because her grandchildren like it. All four of her children live nearby except one who is in Athens. I presume she means Georgia.

At the checkout counter Ginny shows me a DVD about how lots of people make biscuits. It is an Emmy-winning documentary. I don't think she means Emmy but it is award-winning. There is also a book that has recipes. I really should go to (I can't make it out, dammit, and Ginny is busy so I can't ask again) in Nashville where the lady is famous for biscuits and makes them all day long. She might be dead now. Note to self: find biscuit place in Nashville.

At Rice's Country Hams I bought:

• One large ham cut into various pieces
• One large strawberry jam for my biscuits
• One small jar of sorghum which Ginny doesn't care for but her father always used to mix with a little bit of butter and let it melt on his biscuit and sorghum is a cross between molasses and I forgot what
• Three medium jars of blackberry jam
• One small (approximately 11 by 4 inch) log of sausage
• Three pepper bacons
• The DVD
• The cookbook

Ginny gives me a catalog in case I want to send stuff to other people. This is one last look at Rice's with Woody in it. I will treasure it always. Woody now smells like Tabasco mash and country ham. Not a bad combination but it makes me hungry all the time. This is the last picture. I promise.





Hit road hoping to make Maker's Mark by 4:00 or did he say 4:15? GPS says 3:05 but they are in Eastern Time and I am in Central Time. Wonder if by chance GPS is smarter than it looks and I will actually get there before 4. Check mileage to go. Do math several times and am reasonably certain GPS makes time change and I will barely squeak in. Driving through beautiful rolling farmland. Missing these attractions and getting very pissed off about it because I would have stopped if I didn't have to get places which I really didn't but made reservation and told sister when I'd get to Richmond. Feel obligated. Anyhow:

• Lincoln's boyhood home
• Lincoln's home
• Something else about Lincoln
• Mammouth Cave
• Other caves
• National Corvette Museum
• National Railcar Museum
• Kentucky Railroad Museum
• Granny's Quilts
• Headly-something Museum
• Thoroughbred Something
• Kentucky Down Under
• ADULT

Get to what I think is Bardsville but I thought the town back there was Bardsville because I think I ate at the pharmacy there in February. Need gas and I really haven't seen any for a long time. I will have no idea where Bardsville is all day, I just know it is around here and I probably went through it.

This is Marty at Rock & Rogers. He wanted his picture taken at the corner of Woody. This is the picture I am taking, not one that he is. Go figure. Rock & Rogers is an old-fashioned service station. Marty pumps Woody's gas and washes his windshield. Enthusiastic guy with round glasses walks up and wants to tell me about the 1931 his dad was building on a Model A but didn't finish before he died. They gave it to the local Vo-Tech and they finished it. They painted it with purple flames and he isn't too happy about that.









Back on road and see old cars! They have hoods up. This must be a club or a show or a cruise or something. Impulsively pull in, aware that I am really screwed time-wise in getting to Maker's Mark. This is Richard and Lyndal. Lyndal bets I have never met a Lyndal before. He is right. Both Richard and Lyndal have 1966 Novas. Richard's is the Sunset Orange one. I can't remember the name of the blue color. Lyndal. Lyndal makes sure I take a picture of his back windshield. It says: Unless You Are Nude Do Not Touch This Car. He is very proud of it. Richard has a daughter named Amy. It is because she was short. Not sure what that has to do with anything.

This is Woody in the lot behind all the real club cars. He attracts some interest but not very much because these guys all want to be super cool with their cars and I mustn't get in the way of that. Meet Mark and Richard Don. Richard Don is his first name. Mark owns the place and he organized the event. It will be on the first Saturday of the month and this is the first one. They have them in Bardstown and somewhere else and The-Town-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named that sucked me up last winter and wouldn't let me go. I ask where we are. We are in New Haven. Lyndal or Richard (I forget which) grew up in that white house just across the street. His four brothers and sisters live within 5 miles of here. His sister bought the house. You can tell that these guys are really about their town and the next town over, maybe 10 miles away, is a foreign country. They have car events in Bardstown which is from what I know not what I can actually see today about 7 miles. That is not local to these guys. I am in New Haven. All the guys invite me to stay for chili and I won't have to eat down the road. You have no idea how hard that was to turn down as I am really hungry, love chili, and would love to hang with these guys. Mark comes up to say something, I forget what, and I am taken by his unique accessory. He has his beer in one of those zip-up koozies and the zipper hangs from a lanyard around his neck. Very clever. Note to self: construct beer-holder necklace.

Gotta go. Gotta go. Really guys, gotta go. Lyndall has a sister and a cousin who work at Maker's Mark and I should turn right here at 52 and it will take ya fer a way (that's the first time I've heard fer and it tickles me) and you'll be right there right there. I do and I do. It is five minutes to four. There are people eating at the cafe and I ask if there is parking down the road near the distillery. I forget. There is. This is the gate in behind the cafe which is relievedly (is that a word?) still open. Get back in the woodster and go to next parking lot. Sign in middle of wreath on door: Last tour 3:30. Sorry you missed us. The Gift Shop is open. Ask bystander where Gift Shop is. At end of big building. Move Woody even though it is not very far in anticipation of closure of store and potential usage of Woody to keep it open for me. Run to Gift Shop. It is still open. There are a lot of people in there which I assume is due to the 3:30 tour. Pick up allotted 3 bottles of Mint Julep. Walk to counter and wink wink nod nod about getting another ticket. Really nice guy hears conversation and says hey you're the lady from Philadelphia who wants to buy a case that I talked to yesterday but says it really softly. I am. He hushes the other two working at the counter and says to set me up with four tickets. Brings heavy case to Woody. It is over 65 pounds. The Reserve weighs more though. Must be the bottles. Put case in place of honor on front seat. This is Mint Julep. Black Ops. Mum's the word. Guy in parking lot had a woodie and tells me to use Bumper Boys in LA for chroming. Note to self: contact Bumper Boys and compare with local guy near the little airport.

You might wonder what the big deal about Maker's Mark Mint Julep is. The big deal is that it is good. Lots of people think it is good. Even snotty writers think it is good. Spirited Cocktails guy does. So does this   guy I have no idea who is. You can even buy a bottle on eBay for $65. I am pretty sure it is illegal to sell liquor on eBay so he is advertising A Bottle. There is a shortage. I am very, very popular. And heartbroken that I now have an entire country ham and Maker's Mark juleps and I am missing the Pennsylvania Hunt Cup tomorrow because I have made a dog's breakfast of my schedule.
Deal with food again. I have wasted the last two days not eating any good food. This will not be an exception. This is a pulled pork sandwich I think with bourbon BBQ sauce. It is like a Northerner would eat. Too much sauce.






This is Chuckles. Bought them at a slummy rest stop for dinner. Ate red one which tasted like perfume. Threw rest away at next gas station. When was the last time you ate Chuckles? I thought so. There is a reason for that. At said trash stop  met middle-aged guy who is from Maryland who just had to stop to see Woody. He had followed me. It was not creepy. Trust me. He lives in Kansas and is going back to Maryland to visit. He has been driving a long way. He does not know the half of it. Old guy with red Semper Fi hat on chats happily. Go into gas station store to get peanut M&Ms. Boy they sell a lot of liquor in there. Yes, it is a liquor store. Oh. Watch GPS and road signs. Road sign: Elizabethtown 59. GPS: Turn in 47 mi. Road sign: Elizabethtown 32. GPS: Turn in 19 mi. Please lord let that be true.

Get into zone on I-whatever. Parts are very empty and I like that. Three hours to drive. Lots of time to think. Consider that I have been blogging daily for almost a year. Spend about four hours a day on it. Probably written the equivalent of 2000 pages or more. Maybe should finally write book. Doesn't every body think about writing a book? Hasn't everyone been told you ought to write a book? I have always had issues with plot not the actual writing. Think I may have one. How about prison artist and girl have correspondence about art but it is very unemotional even though it seems it should be until she finally finds out what he is in there for and it is a very very bad thing with girls. Angst ensues. Thought about this because read whatever the One City One Book for NYC is. It is about a young girl sending explicit video to older guy who forwards it and it then goes viral and ruins everybody's life. Plus, saw that horrible beating with belt video by that Judge guy I think Adams. You can look it up in about one second. I don't know what to do about guys with rage issues. I am sad. Read comments that say girl is just blackmailing dad because he won't support her anymore and took away her Mercedes. Watched TV interview and think that is true but why did she get the Mercedes anyhow? Also wonder about mom's complicity and inappropriate blond hair extensions. There is no excuse for the abuse and I am appalled that I watched it but got a thrill out of it and I don't know why. Note to self: attempt to bring up beating video with shrink.

Amidst all this complex thinking am startled to see looming refineries with flares and pipes and lights and smoke. Oh shit. Huntington is as bad as I remembered. Praying hotel is back a bit from it. Also worrying about bathing in refinery water. Don't they have high rates of cancer in West Virginia? Can't remember what hotel I made reservations at. Just know it is not the Holiday Inn Express because it got very, very bad reviews on tripadvisor. Stop at first hotel. I do not have a reservation there. Decide to trust GPS although that almost always never works. Today I was rerouted about 10 times because the road I was on did not exist in computer map land. Get to Marriott Something. Think this is it. It is. Am tired of ranting about hotels. Note to self: never go to hotel at night; makes me cranky. This room has full kitchen (with stove and pots and pans and glasses and flatware), no wastebasket in bathroom and this. This is a radio antenna looped over the bedside light. And this room costs 50% more than any other one I've been in on this trip. Fuck you, Huntington.

Have now acquired:

• Arts and crafts from Angola Prison
• Tabasco edibles and clothing
• Konricko rice and secret sauce
• God knows what from Unclaimed Baggage
• Rice's country ham and assorted ham products
• Maker's Mark Mint Julep

I would say this is a trip well done.